Beyond Baker St
by RollyMo
Summary: The consulting Detective, his blogger and the pint-sized orphan are back, this time looking for the killer who can disappear through mirrors. Continues from The Baker St Irregular. OC. No romance.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Tori"

Sherlock looked back to the young girl, pulling off the latex gloves and re-tying his scarf. "Hurry along, we need to visit St Barts"

She sighed, turning from where she'd been standing. Avoiding the vastly spread blood from straining her shoes. Pulling her hair out of its long plait she addressed her best friend.  
>"You know I might just stick round for a bit. Check in with some of the family, I've a feeling I missed something"<p>

The detective raised an eyebrow, the rest of his body stock still. He glanced over to her, excruciatingly thinner, skin ashen and pasty, shoulder still bandaged up and the scars on her face and skin inflamed and evident. A pang of remorse, sharp and unfamiliar, shot through his chest, settling restlessly in his stomach.

"Very well, I can examine the body later" he took the seat in the velvet armchair opposite her, eyes trained on her.

She watched him inquisitively, usually she'd be the one to follow or wait for him. "No, you go. I'll be fine on my own. It won't take long, I'm not gonna be in any danger"

He smirked, the look in his eyes demeaning. "As it were, I'd prefer to say"

Tori was reminded of Mycroft's blunt line of non-rhetorical questions.  
>"Right" she gritted her teeth, turning back to the fireplace she'd been studying. She was being suffocated, figuratively, both by the care workers and Sherlock. They'd seem to have forgotten she was okay, back to normal. Her shoulder was healing nicely, the scars settling from the harsh red to a softer pink, nearly on their way to the white dents in her skin she'd have to live with.<p>

Her head was better too, no more voices or meltdowns. As opposed to a month ago, when she wept at the thought of being alone, all she wanted now was the relative peace and quiet of her not quite normal life.

She felt his gaze burning a hole in her back, silent as he watched. She was sick of constantly having him or John or Lestrade at her side, checking she wasn't straining herself, opening doors for her in case she was injured in any way.

Her fingers danced across the cool marble of the mantelpiece, collecting a sparse few partials of dust along the way. She was about to reach for the ornate gold statue of the globe, when the sensitive muscles in her arm tensed. She barely twitched her little finger as a burst of pain shot from her shoulder to her chest.  
>She dropped the hand as though it had been burnt, testing the skin tentatively.<p>

"Tori! What happened?" Sherlock was at her side in an instant, taking hold of her hand and good elbow.

"N-nothing" she stammered, pushing through the pain and extracting herself from his grasp.  
>"Just please!" her sharp tone forced him to take a step back, busying himself by find a place to put his long arms. "Give me some space!"<p>

Bashfully, he retreated to a safe distance, watching her hands shake and ball into fists. He settled back down in the armchair, placing his fingers below his chin as though in prayer.  
>He watched her closely, noticing how her fingers brushed the gawdy wall paper, bent in a claw like gesture, similar to his own. Grey eyes darting from her reflection of the mirror to the family portraits sitting on the mahogany side table next to her.<p>

His usually fast paced thoughts were running at full force, racing through his mind like Olympic athletes. He was losing control, a higher percentage of his time, more than he would have liked, was taken up with looking out for her.

"Shut up"

The calm tone of voice brought out of his small trance, focussing on the back of her head.

"You're thinking too loudly"

He chuckled appreciatively at her impression/joke before getting up warily to stand behind her.

"You're straining yourself"

"I'm fine" she rolled her eyes, focussing on the dent in the wallpaper her thumb made as she dragged it along.

"Unearthed something?" the seemingly innocent question was betrayed by the demeaning smile she could hear on his lips.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she thought of what to do.  
>He was keeping something from her. She could see it in his eyes, the way he watched her, when she caught him sulking because she had to go home.<br>If he could keep secrets, so could she.

"Nope, just dust" she clapped her hands to hid them of the thin layer of dirt. "So, St Barts was it?"

_A.N_

_Yay! The second story! I'm so excited!  
>Un fortunately there will be much longer waits for chapters because of Christmas and exam stuff. The first three chapters are completed but need some tweaking, to warn you, it's quite a short story, probably half the size of the first.<em>

_This one focuses more on the mystery than Tori herself. The murder will be explained in the next few chapters which will solve some loose ends._

_Also, completely by accident, I found the perfect name for Sherlock and Cheryl Cole.  
>Cherlock.<br>This was 100% accidental, a typo mistake, but I kind of got it stuck in my head. In all honesty I'm no a big fan of hers. _

_Love Rosie._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

"There's someone downstairs"

Tori rolled over from where she was staring at the blank wall to look down at the younger girl. Amy was clutching a blanket round her to ward off the cold and wearing a look of anguish.

"It's probably just Abby" she sat up slowly, rubbing at her sleep deprived eyes. Since the 'incident', as she'd named it, she'd barley been getting more than a few hours' worth of sleep. Punctuated by long, dull, silent stretches of starwatching and switches in sleeping positions.

"No, she's asleep in her room" Amy whispered, glancing warily to the other three girls they were sharing with.

The home still hadn't quite recovered from the shock of the 'incident' and in a rush to bring all the children back together they were forced to cut a few corners in the building work. A few more weeks and everyone would have their own space. Tori, herself, didn't mind sharing, she felt safe being round other people, even if it was simply listening to the mundane task of someone else's breathing.

"It could be Tim, he said he was gonna come back late" she sighed, pulling back the blankets, feeling the cold hitting her bare shoulders and arms.

"No!" the girl cried, her voice rising to a higher pitch. "Someone broke in!"

"Look. Shh!" she whispered, shooting glances at the room's other occupants. "Don't wake anyone up…" she trailed off her sentence at the sound of a faint crash omitting from the hall. "Okay. Amy, I want you to be a very brave girl and wait here while I go check it out" the girl nodded solemnly, her trust fully in Tori's. "Don't follow me, just stay in your bed. If anything happens…you…look nothing'll happen, stay there"

Carefully, she left the bed and the room, shutting the door silently. The hallway was cluttered with piles of the old burnt wood and planks of the new ones to replace with.  
>The remaining floorboards were covered with plastic tarpaulin, muffling the creaks under her footing.<br>The largely un-touched staircase that led down to the ground floor seemed somehow larger than before, stretching out into the empty and dark corridor.  
>"Is anyone there?" she called out, wrapping her arms round her, wishing she'd thought to bring her dressing gown. She dearly missed the stuffy warm evenings of summer, on midnight rambles they were a lot more comforting.<p>

"If that's you Liam I'm telling Abby. She's gonna be mad" her tone was light and cheeky, thankfully the tremors in her fingers and stone in her throat not included.

"Come on! Who's there?" she reached the last step, the cold tiling sending a shiver down her back as her right foot hit the floor. The fluorescent light from the street lamp was streaming through the window, giving the room the atmosphere from a low budget horror flick. The gust of wind rattling against the window was almost enough to scare her. Just the tiniest bit.

"Tori"

"Crap!" she practically jumped into the air, hands flying up to her mouth, at the sound of the familiar cool voice coming from behind her.  
>"Sherlock! How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me!" He gave her a cold grin, glancing round warily as if someone would appear in thin air.<p>

"Come on, station, now, Lestrade wants a run down on the case" not even stopping for a hello, he began pushing her in the direction of the door.

"Sherlock! It's three in the morning! I'm wearing pyjamas! I can't go to Scotland Yard!" she stopped him from pushing her any further, placing her hands on her hips in defiance.

"Here" he took off his long grey coat and threw it to her. She caught it less gracefully she usually would, stumbling under the immense weight.

"I can't wear this, it's twice as heavy as me! And I have no shoes. And it's freezing outside!" though she was opposed to traipsing round London in her sleepwear, Tori still found herself being herded to the door.

"Will these suffice?" he picked up a pair of converse nock offs from the pile on the floor and dangled them in front of her.

"Yeah, thanks 'fairy godmother'. I guess I can go to the ball after all" it was coated with sarcasm, the lack of sleep making her irritable. She slipped the shoes on, thankfully they were her own, and followed him out of the door.

"So" Sherlock Let the stack of paper files fall to the desk with a smack. "Victim, Jennifer Black, lonely widow, husband died a few years ago, the neighbours say she's slowly getting on with life. Found in the middle of a locked room, stab through the back of the neck. Wound's deep, doubtlessly from the letter opened which she was last seen using and now has incidentally gone AWOL from the scene" he placed several black and white forensic prints on the table in front of Tori, John and Lestrade.

"The wound looks impressive" Tori pondered aloud, picking one of the photo's to study it closer. "Like the stab was deliberate, planned" she pulled Sherlock's coat tighter as a gust of wind ran through the office. Rubbing her hands to create some warmth, she glanced at ice frosted glass of the window before turning back to Lestrade. "Why's it so cold in here?"

"Um…It's four in the morning in the middle of November and the heater's packed in" The D.I was in an undeniably grouchy mood, shooting glares at Sherlock every chance he got.

"Moving on" The sociopath interrupted whatever it was Tori was about to say, placing several unflattering photographs of the suspects in front of them. "Mathew Drake" he tapped on the print of a jaunty, rather upper class man "The ex-lover, jilted a few months before the husband died"

"And what do your reliable sources tell you about him?" the younger girl asked, watching the clock carefully, it was closing up to 5 o'clock.

"Hmm?" Sherlock glanced up at her, eyebrows scrunched down in confusion. "Oh, the neighbours. Miss Macalver says he's still infatuated with Jennifer, and wasn't overly thrilled when, after the husband died, she refused to take him back"

"So you think he done it?" she asked, pulling her pyjama clad legs up, so her chin rested on her knees.

"Did, Tori. You think he _did_ it. And that's still undecided" He began tying his scarf up, a clue he was finishing up. "But he was the one out of two men who was there and seems to have his motive sewn up"

"But how did he get in?" she asked, jumping out of her chair and waking the dozing John. "The door was locked from the inside, I saw the room myself. There wasn't any way in, you had to break the door down"

"That's what we're hoping to find out" he answered, pacing to the door. "But in the morning. Now is the time to return to Baker St, and for you, Tori, to get some sleep"

_A.N  
>I hope you understand the plot a little better. I know it's a bit strange for Sherlock to not know straight away who killed her but it'll be explained later.<em>

_Also I'm trying to make Sherlock sound a little more like himself, mostly by using the thesauru__s to clever up some of his lines. I'm slightly ashamed of how he sounded in the first story. I swear I'm getting dimmer, during a really rubbish downpour a fire engine raced down the street and the first thing I thought of was, _Huh? A fire in this weather? _  
><em>_Well that's your pointless update on my mind._

_Love Rosie_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Mr Black" Sherlock addressed the victim's stepson in a gracious, charismatic and equally fake tone. "We were wondering if we could have a word regarding your late father's wife"

"Oh…um…of course" the tall man stumbled verbally, wiping his brow and face.

"Terrible business isn't it" Tori rolled her eyes at her friends attempt at sympathy. "Perhaps we can go somewhere a little more discreet?"

"Of course, my study is just to the left" Craig, he'd been introduced as, gestured to a room off the side of the grand hallway in which they were standing.

"Thank you" Sherlock glanced over at the younger girl, a bored glint in his eyes. "Tor, perhaps you should wait outside" He gave her a conversation closing nod, following Black without pausing to hear her reply.

"Okay" she mumbled to herself, looking round the empty passage dejectedly, scuffing her shoes along the ground as she dolefully picked a room to pass the time in. The ivory painted doors all looked identical, elegant and expensive with far too much crown moulding.  
>Closing her eyes she gave in to the childish urge, raising her arm and index finger and spinning in fast uninhibited circles.<p>

After a few minutes of mindless spinning she stopped, the blood pumping in her ears and a slight wave of nausea rushing through her brain. She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly in a bid to get rid of the black dots swimming round her vision. The door she was now standing in front of was still a duplicate of the others, apart from the police tape creating a cross of black and yellow.

It would be her luck to choose the one door a person died in. And, although she would never admit it, Tori did believe in fate, if only for her name's sake, and ducked under the tape before opening the door.

It was the same as before, the blood drying into the carpet, the light streaming through the windows bland and unhelpful. She was drawn to the large low hanging mirror on one side of the room, waving awkwardly to her own reflection.

"Hey" she chuckled moving closer to study her own eyes "Listen to me. Chatting to myself like that'll help" A long sigh left her lips as she wiped at some stray specks of dirt on her cheek. "Come on Tor… give me a clue"  
>Her ghostly reflection copied the movements as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stretched out her hand to the mirror's surface. "Why am I looking in some old stuffy…Oh!"<br>As the pads of her fingertips brushed along the cool smooth pane of glass, the cogs of her brain began to whir into action. "Look at that, antique frame" She looked down at the ornate brass, embellished with ivy creepers carved into the metal "But new mirror"

Tori remembered an old DIY magazine she'd read during a particularly boring hospital night that vintage looking glasses were covered with a thicker layer of cut glass than the modern mirrors sold today. So where her fingertips met the surface there should be a bigger gap, but instead there was no space between them.  
>"Who'd swap an antique like that with a cheap replacement?" She began asking her reflection again. "Um…To hide something?...Something…behind the mirror?" She hauled up the side of the frame, finding the whole thing lighter than it looked. The wall paper behind seemed plain enough, a little cleaner than the rest of the room and she would have forgotten all about it except for the tiny scrap of folded over paper in the bottom right corner.<br>"What have we got here?" She pulled at the scrap, finding that, instead of ripping off a small fragment, it fell away effortlessly, revealing a large gaping hole in the wall. Large and square in shape it led to, what looked like, a long dark and, judging by the smell, going through somewhere less than fragrant.

"I wonder where this leads?" she thought allowed, swinging the frame of the mirror back further with her left hand. "Should I go and find out?"  
>The question was left hanging as she climbed through the hole, just big enough for her to crawl comfortably.<p>

"Well, thank you Mr Black" Sherlock nodded curtly to the man, ignoring the out-stretched hand and buttoning her coat. "I shall converse with my friend and will be on my way"

"Of course, if you don't mind I have funereal arrangements to make" Mr Black almost bowed, his head hanging awkwardly, before returning to the office, clicking the lock as he went.

"Tori!" Sherlock called, taking out his phone and tapping out a text to John. "I need to examine the carcass a second time" He finished the message, slipping the device back into his coat pocket, finally glancing round the subsequently empty hallway. "Tori?"

He knew it was foolish of him to believe she would have done as told and stayed put, she took after both her parents in that aspect. "Victoria?"  
>An emotion close to panic caught up with him, it was far too similar to the Moriarty incident. She'd disappeared without leaving a trace, he began to search the corridor in a faster pace than normal.<p>

He didn't have to explore for long, the crime scene door, crossed with police tape, has been left slightly ajar, enough to be noticed if you were paying attention.

Pushing it through his eyes trained in on the hanging mirror straight away, it had dipped a couple of degrees since the last time he noticed it.  
>Striding over to the looking glass he pulled it back purposefully, observing how it felt lighter than first perceived. Behind was a hole big enough to fit a person Tori's size and in the right hand corner, caught on the jagged edge of a brick, was a faded blue thread, identical in colour to the young girl's long jumper.<p>

_A.N  
>I think that ended a little wrong.<br>It's annoying, every time I think the chapter is going to be lengthy it barely reach's 1000 words. I guess I'm just cursed by some short story fairy.  
>Whatever, remember kids, 'No otters in the flight deck'<em>

_Love Rosie_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Ouch!"  
>Tori winced as the she scratched the side of her waist on the crumbling brick work. She let out a curse than would make a sailor blush, pulling down her jumper as she went. Her knees were aching from crawling round for what felt like hours, but was only half an hour.<br>Another curse past her lips as she felt something jagged nip at her calf. Reaching blindly back to sooth it, she made a wish something would bring some light, even if it was only a small, dimly lit torch. Hell, even a quick burning match would do.  
>She could barely see more than several inches in front of her face, enough to tell when she hit a dead end. Sort of pointless when her nose brushed up against the wall anyway.<p>

The darkness was so cold, seeping through her fingertips and creeping up her arms. She suspected the weather had taken a turn for the worst several minutes ago as the soil falling from the roof of the tunnel and into her hair, much to her distain, was freshly damp and smelt faintly natural.  
>She dragged a hand through her hair, pulling out the grains of dirt and gravel from her now rather un-appealing and slightly greasy hair. Her clothes were beginning to smell faintly and the grime was settling on the small amount of exposed skin of her face and hands. If only secret underground tunnels had en-suit bathrooms, or at least a sink to wash the mud from her clothes and skin.<p>

"Urgh"  
>A drop of something wet and sticky dripped onto her head, just below her hairline. She felt the gluey substance slowly make its way down to eyebrow level, resting uncomfortably close to her right brow. Leaning on one elbow, she swiped at her forehead, unfortunately it only resulted in acquiring a different kind of filth on her skin.<p>

"Please, let it be finishing soon" she made another wish, giggling as her thoughts travelled to how intensely Sherlock would be in correcting her grammar, if he were in the tunnel.  
><em>What a ridiculous thought, he would never fit, his shoulders would get him stuck ages back<em>_  
><em>Her happy, if slightly nonsensical, ramblings were surprisingly comforting, a sharp contrast to the usual relentless and convoluted mind mapping.  
>"Please, please, please, let it be finished" she repeated the phrase over and over, continuing with her cramp quest, the damp beginning to seep through the fabric of her jeans.<p>

As she felt the wall brush against her cheeks again she turned the corner and far in the distance, barely visible, was a minuscule archway of light. Feeling the end of her journey was starting to end, she hurried up her crawling, mood lightening as the glow grew bigger.  
>"Well look at that"<p>

* * *

><p>"John!" Sherlock barked into the phone, the wind slapping his face as he stormed over the grassy hills surrounding the manor house. "How far away are you?"<p>

The doctor's tired voice sounded out from the receiver "Not long, maybe fifteen minutes if the car runs over the ground easily"

"Oh brilliant!" Sherlock's sarcasm was under-laid with the worry, but only enough for him to notice. "You've resorted to guessing games now, John, maybe we should just close our eyes and point to an arbitrary number on the clock and say that instead"

"Fine, Sherlock, we'll be there in-" there was a pause as he checked his watch. "-Twelve minutes. Look, calm down, I'm sure Tori's just wandered off, you know how she is when you leave her alone"

"Are you insinuating this is my fault?" the younger man demanded, causing John to groan inwardly. Talking to a distraught Sherlock was like covering a mine field blindfolded.

"No, it's just that she may have gotten tired of waiting around and, I don't know, left to go look at… at the…flowers?"

"Look at the flowers?" The consulting detectives tone practically dripped with superior intellect and amusement, for once reversing to his pre-Tori cockiness. "Why would she go and _look at the flowers_? Honestly John, I'm beginning to wonder if a group of five year olds took over your quaint little surgery you seem so fond of and began prescribing pills to pensioners, would anybody notice?"

The doctor groaned, smacking a hand to his head. "For God's sake, Sherlock. I wasn't thinking. Look I gotta go-"

"No, you have got to go, you're worse than Anderson sometimes"

"Fine, I've got to go. Look for Tori, keep out of trouble, I'll be there in about- in five minutes. See you"

The line clicked off and Sherlock continued storming across the open country side. The aggression in his footsteps subsided slowly as he walked along the uneven ground.  
>It was so like the Holmes' estate, huge and overly grand. The miles of dreary, monotonous fields, no flowers growing, they were kept on the front lawn, much more tasteful, his mother would say.<br>He wanted to take her there, show her what was rightfully hers, even if she would never come to unearth her title. He wanted to show her off to the family, show them that he wasn't as much of a disappointment as they believed. He must have done something right to have helped in creating something as perfect as her.  
>But then he wanted more than that, he wanted her to be his daughter, for her to be happy and safe. To have, yes he'd admit it, two parents who loved her.<p>

Slowing his pace considerably, he glanced around where he now stood, a much further distance from the manor than he'd expected. Spinning round his eyes searched the natural surroundings, the grassy stretches, void of any trees or shrubs. And, there, right on the horizon, just large enough to be visible, was a dark black shack of a house.  
>Not even stopping to catch a breath he ran, full force, towards the spot, one name leaving his lips<br>"Victoria"

_A.N  
>Suspense builds!<br>Well that took forever to write, I've just been really busy, my family took a trip to London for two days, it was so amazing. I always forget how much I miss London when I'm not there. I saw the new Sherlock Holmes film! It was brilliant! Oh my god, if you haven't already, Go see it! So good!  
>We even got to go ice-skating at the rink in Somerset house, it was brilliant, and while we were there this guy proposed to his girlfriend! Aww!<br>More important news, this will probably be the last chapter till after New year, things are busy down my end and I won't have a lot of time.  
>Anyway, see you soon!<br>Love Rosie_

_P.S I could really use a consulting detective right now, the christmas stockings have gone missing! Dun dun duh!  
>I'd even settle for Martin Creif's cute but mediocre detective skills.<br>But never fear, Detective Rosie's on the case! And by that I mean looking through the decorations box then giving up when something good on TV comes up._

_P.P.S Watched Hugo today with friends of the family, such a good film, Asa Butterfield is such a cutie! (He was Mordred in Merlin) Plus it was a amasing film._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Oh my god"  
>Tori's heart beat stopped for a moment as she let the heavy metal door fall against the wall with a thud. Sitting across from her, like disturbing welcome home present, was a wrinkled elderly woman, head lolled to the side, blood pouring from a bullet wound to her abdomen.<p>

"Oh god!" She ran forward, desperately thinking of anything that could help. Unfortunately her school's biology syllabus had a lot to be desired and she still barely scraped a C. Delicately and carefully, Tori pressed two fingers to the poor woman's throat, frantically searching for a pulse. After several minutes of nothing, though having a less than steady head she didn't have the best grasp of time, she gave up.

"I'm sorry" She whispered to the old lady, the detective in her taking control of her senses and forcing her to look round the newly formed crime scene. It was the pigeonhole cottage on the moors, few electrical devices, and fairer few of them seemed to be from the current century. The front door was locked, triple dead lock, it seemed the old lady was paranoid of break-ins. The windows were all in-tack and fitted with wooden planks, only being able to remove from the inside.  
>The only way out being the same way Tori had used herself. Turning back she watched the small trapdoor leading through the recently deceased's floor level cupboard door. That was the only entry that opened both ways, a well-disguised bolt in the back of the wall.<p>

A sigh left her lips, leaving her exit way to search for a phone. Her chest felt un-expectantly heavy and began to clench as her thoughts strayed to her friends. She wondered where John and Lestrade and especially Sherlock were at that point in time, hoping that maybe they would be searching for her. But maybe they had other things on their minds, they did have a murder case to solve. Her heart constricted again and she came very close to despair. It was enough to knock her off her feet and sent her down to the floor, back hitting the wood of the cupboard. She sat like that for several moments, trying to understand the new feeling.

As was infrequently the case with Tori, after a small bout of self-pity she put it behind her, a new burst of energy washing over her. It was a trait she rarely showed but was proud of none the less.  
>Smiling to herself, she got up from the cold cottage floor, ready to call Sherlock and reveal her findings.<p>

She was about to take a few steps when one hand wrapped round her waist, the other covering her mouth with a dirty and toxic cloth. She would have struggled if the smell hadn't lowered her defences and forced her eyes to cloud over. Her last thought, _chloroform_.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock!" John ran as fast as his two legs plus slight limp could manage, becoming out of breath faster than he'd imagined. "Where is she?"<p>

His friend barely waited for the doctor to reach him, picking up the pace of his walk so John had to sprint to keep up. "The house over the hill, it's the only place she could run to"

"Sherlock, she will be okay" John looked up at him, searching his eyes for some emotion. "I'm sure"

The taller man didn't reply, instead keeping his gaze on the slowly growing cottage in the distance.

_A.N  
>Sorry, really short one today, but I'm trying to speed along the actual plot. I really should be doing homework but I do want to finish this story.<br>Hope everyone had a good Christmas and new year._

_Next chapter will be up soonish  
>Love Rosie<em>


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Oh god"  
>John whispered into his hand, exhaling the breath that had gotten caught while opening the door.<p>

"She's been dead for nearly a day, around the same time as Jennifer. One shot to the abdomen, most likely by the killer, not a precise shot"

"More importantly, Sherlock, is Tori here?" John began searching through the room, more for something productive to do than in the hopes he'd actually find her.

_Footsteps  
>Wet footsteps.<br>Opposite direction to mine or Johns. Small, Tori's.  
>She came through a different entrance, the door was locked before we kicked it down.<br>They start by the cupboard._

John watched as Sherlock dropped to his knees in front of the old oak dresser, inspecting the edges of the wooden door. The doctor was worried about Tori, she was still recovering from physical and psychological problems that could take years to fix. And as much as he tried to convince Sherlock and himself she was probably fine, simply out searching for a new clue, he still felt the steady rise of panic in his chest.

"She was here" Sherlock held up a long thin strand of dark hair, along with a scrap of something blue. "It's from her jumper, synthetic wool blend"

"Maybe she saw the dead woman and left to find us, she could be running back to the house now"

"Don't be naïve, John" he turned to point to the long scuff marks leading towards the door. "It's from the heels of her boots. She was dragged backwards by someone"

"Someone has her" John shook his head, letting out a deep breath as he felt a seemly impossible quiet hysteria settle in. "Again! Someone's kidnapped her again. Oh Brilliant!"

"Calm down John, I thought panicking falls in my due restriction. Or is that only reserved for actual parents?" The light hearted, if a little inappropriate, joke seemed to work its purpose, both men focusing on finding Tori.

* * *

><p>When Tori woke she felt cold wet droplets fall down her cheeks.<br>Rolling her neck to rid her of the crick she blinked her eyes open and took in her surroundings. She was sitting on a hard wooden chair in the middle of a grand study. Her wrists were pulled behind her back, tied roughly with thick scratchy rope.

"Hello"  
>Blinking against the bright glare of the cold winter sun that hit the window, she called out to the empty room, noticing for the first time the warm fire. She could feel the cold from earlier warming up her bones<p>

"Hello" An icy, callous voice replied from behind her, causing her head to try and turn, only to feel the oak back of the chair hit the right of her head.

As she turned her head back to look forward, she felt a whisper of air on her ear.  
>"Such a young girl. So very pretty"<p>

A shiver ran up her spine, bringing back the bitter chill to her skin.  
>"Who are you?" she asked, for some reason not able to turn her neck.<p>

"So, so pretty, just like her"

Tori's eyes were stuck on the flicker of the flames, dancing in the fireplace in front of her. They weren't warming her any more, the heat missing her skin all together.

"All dark hair and big eyes, a little china doll. So pretty"  
>The voice carried closer, drifting into the shell of her ear.<p>

"And so breakable"

She felt the ropes tighten around her as the legs of the chair lifted sending her falling backwards, the blood rushing to her head.

_A.N  
>Well that took forever to write. Sorry for the wait, I got a little mixed up about what would happen next. I've been too emotional over Reichbeck, it hit me pretty hard.<br>I think I prefer the new series to the old one, Lara Pulver was an amazing Irene and Russell Tovey came with his giant ears. Also Moriarty, Andrew Scott is probably one of the most gorgeous man alive. Though I couldn't take him seriously on the roof because me and mum were too busy disco dancing to staying alive to pay attention. I also want to write a piece about Tori being in the actual show, it'll be different to what happened in this and the first story and it'll start after Reichbeck. I won't say anymore but it'll be up after this finishes. _

_Next chapter is sketched out in my mind and I'll try to write it over the next week. _

_Love Rosie_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Craig Black gripped onto the hairs on top of his head, rocking slowly backwards and forwards. He took quick glances at the unconscious girl next to him. Tears stung at his eyes as the child writhed on the floor, this was getting out of hand.  
>No. This was way out of his reach, things were just spiralling out of control.<p>

He didn't mean to hurt anyone else, just Jennifer. But she didn't matter. Everything had been going smoothly until that morning. The police officers were helpful, leading themselves off on the wrong route and ending at Matthew Drake's feet. If the police did become suspicious, he'd plant some evidence and send those dogs on their way.

The girl mumbled in her sleep, her skin covered in grime and dirt.

He looked away, picking at the splintering wood beneath his hands. The sky was grey and bleak outside, the wind rattling against the window. They would have to move soon, he could take her back to the mansion, say he found her on the moors, clean her up and send her home.

Craig didn't like the idea of a young girl following that Holmes man, it'd only end in trouble. One day she would get caught by a man a lot crueller than himself. Letting a callous, heartless old hag like Jennifer bleed to death was one thing. Hurting a little girl was irredeemable.

He saw the hurt in her face, the pain she was feeling. Someone was hurting that poor child. Craig snapped a piece of wood from the desk he was sitting on, she was in pain and he would put an end to her suffering.

Jumping to his feet, began sorting through his plans, thinking of a suitable setting.

* * *

><p>Tori woke as soon as someone began to lift her from the floor, her instincts cut in as a pair of arms wrapped round her. She thrashed and kicked, her eyes still clamped together.<p>

"Hey, hey, it's all right" someone moved in front of her, causing her eyelids to open of their own accord. A man, smiling bent down on his knees, stretching out his hand to help her up. "You hit your head, I'm Craig, Jennifer's son"

Tentatively, she slipped her fingers between his, warily glancing between his cold eyes. "I was in the cottage" She replied inanely, pushing off the floor as he pulled. Staggering a little, she finally stood up straight, blinking as her pupils focused on the bright light from the celling lamp.

"That's where I found you, completely out of it. I was so worried I planned to bring you back to the manor but the wind became too harsh. We could've been blown away" He held onto her arm, keeping her from losing her footing.

"Where's Sherlock?" she raised a shaky hand to her face, running it through her hair.

"I don't know, sorry, he'd gone back to the car. I was planning on visiting Mrs Lockheart when I found you" He helped her take a few tentative steps.

"The old lady, she's dead" Tori felt the tears well up in her eyes but blinked them away as Craig walked her to a stool.

"Yes, I know" he swallowed back the guilt, Susan Lockheart another victim of his. She'd caught him using the trapdoor and was going to call the police, or that's what she would have done if he hadn't used his father's service revolver. It was self-defence. Anyhow, the old hag was close enough to deaths door that arriving a few months earlier wouldn't make too much of a difference.

"I tried to help" Tori massaged her aching shoulder, tensing and relaxing the muscles while gripping onto her shoulder blade.

"There was nothing you could do" He looked hurriedly to the window, time was running short. "The wind seems to be cooling down, we should probably get to the manor before it gets dark"

"I should be going home soon, Abby'll have my head if I'm not back in time" She didn't seem to hear him and was mumbling quietly to herself as he shrugged of his jacket to wrap round her shoulders.

"C'mon" he slipped her arms into the sleeves, pulling her up and holding her by the elbow. "Better get going"

She leaned on into his hold as they made their way to the door, the tiredness settling in.

_A.N_

_Wow. I finished that one pretty fast for me. It's not extremely long but I quite happy with it.  
>Did you guess who it was, before you found out? I wouldn't have thought so but never mind. It took a while to get there.<br>Also the bit with Tori in the last chapter, it wasn't actually real, more in her imagination. Sorry for confusing any one.  
>Next chapter the real drama beings.<em>

_Till next time_

_Love Rosie. _


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Quick, there's a short cut through here"

Craig pushed her a little too forcefully in the direction of the forest, accidently pulling out several strands of her dark hair caught in his watch.

"Hey careful!" the warning fell on deaf ears as he grabbed her upper arm, dragging her to the right. They carried on through the trees and twisted plants, he ignored her protests as the large manor loomed closer. The sky above them let out a low rumble of thunder, a strong gust of wind barrelling through the trees, nearly knocking them off course.

Tori glanced up at her guide, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Her head felt as though it was slowly falling apart, her flesh was burning and yet frozen, her clothes rubbing her sensitive skin in excruciating pain. With her free arm she rubbed the tender burn scar, trying but failing to massage away the pain.

She needed to sleep, to recharge, then she could walk a mile or however long they'd been hiking. Her bed at the home, although a little uncomfortable, would be warm, her pillow was soft and sweet smelling. She would take a bath, rid her body of the grime and filth, put on her cosiest pyjamas, climb into bed and not leave till the late the next morning. In fact, there was a strong chance she would fall asleep and not wake for days.

Walking and thinking, although favoured by writers and poets, is not always so useful, as she found out. Her head collided with something in front of her, which, when she took a step back, discovered it to be Craig's.

"What's wrong?" she moved round to the side of him, squinting into the greying horizon to look at something. It was the same dull and bleak landscape as earlier, only slightly less stormy.

"It's too late" His voice was void of emotion, barely more than a murmur.

"What's going on?" Tori squinted into the gloom, seeing two miniscule figures moving slowly towards them. They were still too far away for her to see anything distinguishable, but a small sensation of comfort and protection. Turing back to Craig the feeling vanished.

"I'm too late, it's too late to help"

"Craig, please tell me what's happening. I'm scared" Her voice was insistent, layered with fear, gripping onto the man's arm with such force it would leave dents.

"Let go" It was a command, calm but strong. She dropped her hand as though it had been burnt. "Walk six steps backwards, don't turn and don't run"

Tori opened her mouth to argue but let it hang loose as she caught the gleam of metal in his hands, the click as he turned off the safety catch.

"Craig, please, you don't want to-" She did as asked and walked several slow paces backwards, keeping her arms at her side, gripping onto the fabric of her jeans.

"No, you don't understand" he aimed the gun in the middle of her forehead, hand shaking warily. "This is to help you, to make you happy. I can see it, you're hurting. You're in pain, it's not making you happy" He said it with such vigour she might have believed him. "This life you're living, it's not safe. I just want to help you"

He took a step back, relaxing the hand pointing "You see I'm not a bad person, I'm doing this because you shouldn't have to deal with the pain. Everything I've done today has been a positive thing"

"You killed Jennifer" Tori breathed, the connections forming in her brain. It played out in her mind's eye, like an abstract French arts film. Jennifer must have let him in, he kills her and escapes, though not before locking the door. "And you killed the old woman"

"Jennifer was a cruel and heartless woman, she was cheating on my father, for years she didn't love him and still he gives everything to her. That hag carried on as though nothing had happened" He held up the gun, hand shaking warily.

"Please, let me go. I swear I won't tell anyone!" She was shaking in fear, staring at the barrel of the gun in front of her.

"I can't do that. The risk is too great. I mean of course no one will believe you, who'd listen to a harmless child. But there's always the chance an officer will take pity on you and hear out your story. I can't let that happen"

"Please, I don't want to die, please!" the tears streamed down her cheeks as her body began to shake violently.

"It's okay, relax, go out happy" He squeezed the trigger, a look of ecstasy on his face.

"No!" she cried as the sharp bang of a bullet rang through the air.

_A.N  
>Wow, that's kinda long for me, especially since pretty much finished it in a day. <em>

_Sorry again for the long wait, my computer keeps threatening to shut down at any minute and GCSE's are looming their ugly heads. _

_Though I've pretty much got the ending sketched out, maybe just one or two more chapters, I dunno._

_Anyway, till next time  
>Love Rosie <em>


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

The tears poured from her dark eyes, running down her wet cheeks and pooling in a sticky mess on her crooked neck. The harsh wind whipped her hair round, the strands swiping at her damp face and eyes. Her quaking knees gave way as a second rumble of thunder sounded out.

Once her feet bent over uncomfortably, toes rubbing against the worn fabric of her boots, Tori let the rest of her collapse, legs and torso falling against the frozen ground. Her head knocked against the soil, sending a wave of pain through her body, battling with the icy chill seeping through her skin.

She lay sobbing on the ground, suddenly feeling the weight off everything smash against her shoulders, the weight of tiredness settling in. Eyes threatening to close she curled up into ball and let the tears take hold of her.

She wouldn't look at the body, the blood trickling through the grass, the thick metallic smell burning her nostrils. Tori had never seen life being taken away from someone. She'd seen death before, Sherlock had never kept her from seeing victim's bodies, and though she was a little squeamish around internal organs that ended up of the outside, the same with decapitated victims, she could deal with almost anything. But seeing the light leave Craig's eyes was something else. It hurt. Like someone was slicing through her skin, slow and painful.

Now, weeping on the floor she replayed the scene in his head. The shot whistled through the air, hitting the murderer square in the chest. It stopped his heart as he fell to the floor, collapsing like a puppet that'd had their strings cut.

She let the tears wash over her, the trauma of the last few months catching up and forcing down on her, causing her shoulders to shake.

As the last of her will was stripped away, leaving her broken and weak, a large shadow fell over her, blocking the little amount of cold winter light that fought its way through the clouds. She lifted her head, barely making it before dropping back to the floor.

"Tori" A gentle, warm hand slipped round her wrist, long elegant fingers pressing on the veins to try and find a pulse.

"Tori" the soft yet insistent voice travelled over her, a second hand resting on her waist and rolling her over onto her back. She blinked her eyelids, looking up at the familiar pale face.

"Sherlock" she whispered, frozen lips emitting a soft murmur. Her hand slipped into his, wrapping her fingers round his thumb and squeezing it desperately.

"Are you alright?" He scanned every inch of her in a matter of seconds, checking that each fleck of mud wasn't in fact blood.

"I'm fine, nothing's happened to me" with his help she sat forward, leaning her weight onto him. She took a second to glance at the body that lay several feet away. John had seen to the corpse, confirming he was dead before kneeling at her side.

"John, is he?"

He gave a grave nod as she fell defeated against Sherlock's shoulder, a fresh batch of tears streaming down her cheeks. Both men watched her fearfully, the usually balanced and objective girl breakdown in front of them.

"Tori" Sherlock, with help from the doctor, pulled her onto her feet, giving her shoulders a quick shake. "We need to take you home"

Her head hung loosely from her neck, matted and dirty strands of dark hair fell over her face, eyes refusing to make contact with either man. She seemed to fold in on herself, becoming smaller and smaller by the second.

"He did it. Craig, he killed Jennifer and the old woman. He told me before he…did…that" she swallowed the lump forming in her throat, trying to move away from Sherlock and stand by herself.

"Tori, come with us" the detective noticed her edging away before even she had. Her eyes were clouded and scared, hands clenched into shaking fists. He held out a hand to her, shooting John a worried look.

"I just… need to" her words were stammered and hasty, her gaze falling on Craig's lifeless body. She took several tiny steps backwards, nearly tripping on the uneven ground.  
>"Which one of you shot him?" her head snapped up quickly before looking away anxiously.<p>

Both men looked at the other before Sherlock did a quick scan of the area.

"It wasn't either of us" John took a tentative step forward, holding his arms up in reassurance.

"Then who- someone shot him" she gestured wildly to the body, stumbling backwards in fear. "There's someone else"

"Victoria Luck" the use of her full name caught her attention, if only a little. "You need to get away from here. We'll take you home"

"I don't have a home" it was a sad little whisper before John pulled her into his arms, stroking her back comfortingly.  
>Sherlock stood detached from the scene, a large stone settling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't seen her so distraught in months. Her eyes had darkened, skin fading to a sallow white. She seemed so frail, fragile like a doll, hanging on its last threads. His hands clenched into fists, his finger nails breaking the skin of his hands.<p>

"C'mon" John glanced back to the detective before practically picking Tori's small frame up and marching her towards the manor. "This place has messed everyone round a bit"

"She's getting worse" Sherlock commented, not moving his gaze from Tori's unmoving form.

"I know" John took a quick glance behind him to where the little girl was sleeping against his friend's side, before focusing back on the road. The car was swallowed in silence, the only sounds were the hum of the engine and slow breaths from Tori.

"John, you claim to know more about this area and I do trust your opinion. Do you think I should tell her?" the detective's blue eyes were cold but with a melancholy glint to them.

A small sigh, followed by a sharp left turn of the car, was all he got in reply for several minutes before the doctor spoke again. "I honestly don't know, there's a chance Tori may be delighted, rejoice in the fact she'll have a family. Or, she might never forgive you for keeping the fact you're her father a secret for months. And she will most defiantly want to know who her mother is. It's up to you to determine if telling her will make her happy or not"

"Almost what I was thinking, more or less" He looked down as Tori wriggled in her sleep, clutching the blanket wrapped around her, shaking from something in her dreams.

_A.N.  
>Well that was quicker than before, surprising with GCSE's only round the corner. Sorry to say it's just one more chapter then it's finished. That one will be up a lot sooner, I swear. <em>

_Love Rosie_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten

"Tori!" Slowly she dragged her eyes up, seeing Abby smile warmly from the kitchen table, tucking into a plate of something hot. Her eyes turning worried as she took in her less than spectacular appearance.

Rushing forward the care worker pulled her down to sit at the large oak table, taking off her dressing gown and wrapping it round Tori's shoulder, immediately fussing over her. "What happened"

Wetting her lips, she pulled at her damp and dirt covered clothes, letting out a sigh, her eye lids drooping as she spoke "Abby, I know you're worried and I know you've got questions but...but is it okay if we don't talk about it right now?" Rubbing at the deep and dark circles under her eyes, she let out a short yawn. "I just want to go to sleep"

Later in her bed, as she tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep but too tired to get up, the small bedside lamp clicked on. Snapping open her eyes, thinking it was probably one of the younger girls scared of going to the toilet on her own, she was surprised to see almost all the occupants of the home waiting by her bed, eyes wide and pyjama clad.

"What's going on? She slurred, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes as she sat up against the head board. The many pairs of eyes staring back at her widened as the t-shirt she was wearing slipped to reveal the burn scars on her shoulders. They looked worse than they actually were, pink from the piping hot bath she'd had earlier.

"What happened to you?" Amy asked, climbing onto the bed next to Tori, effectively leading the way for the others to do the same. Sensing it was going to become a midnight story session, she rearranged the pillows to get comfortable and began a toned down, PG rated, version of what had happened to her.

Pulling the duvet up and over the children's legs, she let Amy and the younger boy Phillip to her right relax against her, wrapping her arms their cold little shoulders before beginning her tale.

"Well, it all began with the cleverest detective, the bravest solider and a young lonely orphan..."

_A.N  
>The end! That's it! <em>

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, story alerted or just read the story. Special thanks to __**Nasia**__ who was always a lovely person and to __**Irene Adler**__ who always made me laugh. _

_I may continue with some more Tori stories (rhymes!) I was thinking of doing one that actually fitted with the actual series and try and focuse on getting the characters right._

_Bye! Love Rosie _


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